High On Believing
by wildfiremind
Summary: Billy Hargrove was trouble. Steve knew that. Billy was the type of guy who would punch you in the face for looking at him wrong only to kick you in the ribs because your broken nose got blood on his shirt. But here's the thing: Steve kinda liked it.


Billy Hargrove was trouble.

Steve knew that.

Billy was the type of guy who would punch you in the face for looking at him wrong only to kick you in the ribs because your broken nose got blood on his shirt.

But here's the thing: Steve kinda liked it.

Billy lived in a constant cycle of eat, fuck, fight, repeat and had no problem letting the small-town teens of Hawkins High know just how ready he was to do any of the three. He had fucked half the girls in the school and punched out just as many guys; Steve got the feeling Billy was the type who fucked like he was fighting, hard and dirty with a razor-sharp smile leaving bruises behind.

And he should know about the fighting.

His face had borne the marks of the other boy's fists for a month, skin tinged a mural of sickly yellows and purples as it healed. Steve had watched the slow progress every morning in the mirror, cheeks tinged pink beneath the mural as he remembered the heat of Billy's body above him as he was thrown to the ground and crushed beneath his weight.

There had been no apology from Billy, no sign of repentance except a car door swinging open and an expecting gaze watching him from above dark shades. That was the first morning he had been driven to school by Billy, but it was not the last.

It was that car that started it. That stupid, beautiful beast of a car.

Billy drove too fast to be called anything but suicidal; the roar of his motor akin to the cries of a rampaging animal, he terrorised the streets of Hawkins. Steve loved nothing more than to be sitting in the passenger seat, truly in the belly of the beast but savouring the chance to exist in a space no other claimed as Billy's friend.

And how he ached at the thought of being Billy's friend; at claiming for himself what no other person in Hawkins could match in the comradeship displayed by the other, domineering boy.

Billy was an asshole, there was no doubt about it, but rather than finding it annoying as most of Hawkins did, Steve found the blonde's action either amusing or seductive.

His stomach would clench when Billy ran his nails across the scruff on his jaw, lips angled into an unintended pout as he took a deep drag of his smoke and blew it into the face of an unsuspecting participant to his filthy habit. Coughing was a weakness and complaining was worse, an invitation for a second wave of smoke to consume the hapless victim as Billy laughed in their face; and his laugh was glorious.

Comparing Billy to a hurricane was an insult. If Billy was anything he was an inferno; he burnt with the self-destructive blaze of a thousand suns; ultraviolet and boiling; bright and imposing and painfully beautiful to behold; he was a supernova collapsing in on itself, self-destruction fuelled with a burning rage that threatened to implode at any second.

And may God forgive him, but it was this energy, this burning, destructive heat, that made Steve quiver like a fucking virginal schoolgirl when Billy kissed him in the alley behind the old theatre. This power that, instead of punching him and cutting off all contact, made Steve clutch desperately at powerful shoulders, one leg dragged to wrap around the bigger boy's waist as Billy licked wetly into Steve's mouth.

Their first kiss consisted of Steve being manhandled up against the wall, the joint he had been smoking falling to the concrete as a meaty hand wrapped firmly around his thigh, the other dragged teasingly along the naked skin of Steve's waist beneath his shirt. The half gasp, half moan fell naturally from Steve's mouth to be swallowed by Billy's lips who used his superior bulk to press the brunette teen into the bricks as he chased the sound.

Their second, third, fourth and fifth kiss were much the same. Their sixth however, featured Steve's empty house, far less clothes and a fervent desire that saw the two melting in a mess of bitten off screams and fingerprint shaped bruises painting the skin over Steve's hips.

They weren't dating. That was the first thing Billy told him the next morning when they woke up tangled in Steve's thousand thread count cum stained silk sheets. The second thing he told him was to get on his knees, so Billy could run the flat of his tongue wetly over Steve's hole and bring him to a mind shattering orgasm that left him wrung out and over stimulated.

Several hours later Steve returned the favour, sinking to his knees on the pristine genuine fur rug that cost more than most people earned in a month. Billy's hand fisted his hair roughly and his constant urging for Steve to choke on his cock was anything other than gentle but, his thumb stroked softly along the curve of Steve's hollowed cheeks and his drawn-out groan of pleasure was followed by a messy enthusiastic kiss that left Steve hard and aching in his briefs.

Steve ached a lot because of Billy. A deep throbbing ache in his hips and back following a rough fuck that pulsed when he sat down or moved too fast, a slow burning ache in his groin when the older boy winked at him devilishly beneath the warm spray of the showers after practise, a hungry heated ache that raged in his heart when Billy leant flirtatiously against a locker and smiled down at another vapid blonde cheerleading bimbo.

 _Oh_.

 _ **Holy fucking hell no.**_

There was no way he felt anything for Billy, Mr I'll Cut You If You Tell Anyone I Like to Press Boys Up Against the Wall and Fuck Them into The Plaster. Not a chance in hell that he would stupidly allowed himself to fall for probably the most unavailable guy in Hawkins, and that included the straight ones.

Unfortunately there was little way to deny the green monster that brewed in his eyes every time he saw the Californian boy drape his arm around the newest girl to catch his eye, bending down to whisper what he had planned for her till her cheeks flared with heat and his eyes glinted victoriously, shark toothed smile dimpled with boyish charm as he met Steve's eyes and ran his thumb across his bottom lip.

Those were the few times Steve took any form of control in bed, throwing the laughing blonde to the mattress and pinning him in place with hands around his wrists. His legs thrown either side of the blondes naked waist, clothes half discarded and hair a mess, he'd sink down onto Billy's cock, the move stealing the laughter from the older boy's throat as Steve rolled his hips in a deep rocking motion.

The few times it happened they held that position till they came, for once free of the constant position changing that occurred when they fucked. It only took a few minutes for Steve's aggressively passionate undulations to slow, his chest heaving with the exertion and his thighs aching but still willing to move against Billy's thrusts.

Breathe caught in his throat the brunette blushed heavily at the awestruck look in Billy's for once unguarded eyes, large hands settling naturally into the groves of Steve's hips as they rocked together.

Steve didn't dare call it love. Love wasn't something Billy tolerated, seemingly to full of bottomless rage and fervent desire to have room for an emotion as weak and pathetic as _love._

But for all his protests that they weren't dating Billy didn't tolerate Steve flirting with anyone else, always ready to intervene anytime the brunette was talking to anyone in a way that appeared to be anything more than friendly.

And despite how often Steve saw Billy draped around the curvaceous form of some hot girl there were never any rumours about him following through on his flirting, no sign that he had touched anyone but Steve since their strange arrangement started.

It gave him hope that maybe his feelings weren't as one sided as he feared, that maybe despite his protests Billy really did feel something other than lust for him. Heaven knows even if the blonde did feel anything he seemed to completely lack the ability to process his emotions in a manner that vaguely resembled healthy.

Steve could wait though. After the last few months; the constant feeling of danger and speed and _dear god help me it's all happening so fast,_ it would be nice to go slow, to have the time to make the right decision at the right time without hurting everyone around him; and that included Billy. For all that the older boy put up a wall around his heart he was remarkedly terrible at hiding just how easily he was broken.

His insistence on only meeting Steve at the brunette's house was an indicator of this; Billy's house, and by extension his father, was off limits in all facets of discussion. It didn't mean Steve couldn't use his eyes; that he didn't see the bruises blossoming like abstract art across the contours of Billy's skin, the stiff movements and harsh language that followed the first few times Steve saw the violent markings.

He couldn't do much, not with how stubbornly Billy remained silent on the matter, choosing to divert any attempts to bring up how the boy incurred such damage. Steve was all but helpless in this situation, but he was at least able to offer Billy a safe place, a home and a bed where he could rest without having to fear his father's temper.

And the moments when he woke up in the morning, Billy still slumbering deeply beside him, stretched out and peaceful in sleep in a way he couldn't be while awake, Steve knew that it was worth it. That maybe someday the blonde wouldn't fear his father or himself. It gave him hope; made him believe that perhaps someday the blonde would achieve that peace while awake, with him.


End file.
